


Professional Contacts

by china_shop



Category: Leverage, White Collar
Genre: Crossover, Fic, First Time, Fuckbuddies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal stuck his hand in his pocket and came to stand next to him, looking out at the New York night. "It doesn't have to be complicated."</p><p>This is a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/139153">The Anonymous Tip Job</a>, but it can stand alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Professional Contacts

**Author's Note:**

> Many many thanks to brynnmck and labellementeuse for beta. <3

Mozzie was firmly ensconced on Neal's couch, his face buried in the New York Review of Books. Neal tried to be patient, but it was nearly nine o'clock. "Aren't you meeting Michalowski at your chess club this evening?"

He pitched it casually, but Mozzie lowered the magazine with a sigh. "Sometimes it's hard to believe you're internationally notorious for your ability to deceive people. If you want me to leave, you can simply say so, you know. Are you expecting friend or foe?"

Before Neal could answer, there was a knock on the door.

"Guess I'm going to find out," said Mozzie. He folded the magazine in half and shrugged into his jacket.

Neal answered the door. As expected, it was Alec Hardison, tall, lean and distractingly attractive. He was wearing a dark green long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and a neutral expression, but his eyes were warm. "Hey, man."

"Oh, hi!" said Neal, opening the door wider to let him in, at which point Alec came face to face with Mozzie. "Special Agent Brodie from the Baltimore office, this is—"

"I was just leaving," interrupted Mozzie. He squinted up at Alec, then shot Neal a skeptical look before edging past. "Chess game."

Neal shut the door after him and grinned at Alec, who rolled his eyes. "You got something for me or what?"

"Right here." Neal went to the bookcase and slid the letter—on genuine FBI letterhead, no less—out from between the pages of _Paradise Lost_. He'd spent most of Monday evening working on it, and the result was a masterpiece, if he did say so himself, right down to the smudged fingerprint, the coffee stain and the creases from a non-existent envelope. "Ford doesn't know I'm involved?"

"No names, just like we agreed," said Alec. "Thanks, man. You got no idea what this means to our client."

Neal nodded and went to give it to him, then made a show of hesitating, holding it just out of reach. "One question."

Alec leveled his gaze at him and put his hands on his hips, pulling his shirt taut across his chest and silently making it plain that he wasn't to be messed with.

Neal held up his hands, keeping his expression open and giving Alec plenty of space. "I was just wondering how you feel about mixing pleasure with business."

"Oh." Alec's eyebrows went up, and he practically did a double take. "Really?"

"I could've couriered this," Neal pointed out, surprised by Alec's surprise, but hiding it. If he'd misjudged the situation, well, no harm done.

Alec was holding up a finger and shaking his head—but it wasn't a no. "They all warned me you were trouble."

"I thought no one knew you were here," said Neal.

"After the Matheson job I was getting it from all sides." Alec tilted his head, and okay, Neal definitely had his attention now. It was a good feeling. "Seems like they think you have some kind of crime superpowers, but without the whole 'great responsibility' side of the equation."

"I'm very good at what I do." Neal smiled. "You're not?"

Alec grinned back. "No one else comes close," he said. "But I think you already know that."

"Superpowers all around, then," said Neal. He licked his lips and met Alec's gaze. "Thought about it?"

"Hell, yeah, I thought about it," said Alec. "I ain't blind. But—"

"But?" Neal took a step forward. "You show me yours—"

Alec looked away, out through the open French doors to the Chrysler Building that dominated the cityscape. His eyes narrowed as he considered. "I don't need no complications, man. The business I'm in, I can't get tied down—no matter how tempting the offer is."

Neal stuck his free hand in his pocket and came to stand next to him, looking out at the New York night. "It doesn't have to be complicated."

"You got the Feds on you, twenty-four/seven. How can that not be complicated?" Alec elbowed him lightly in the ribs and didn't pull away. "Hate to kick a man when he's down and under surveillance, but you gotta know it was enough of a risk for me showing up here at all. And then there's that high-tech little gizmo on your ankle I heard so much about."

"I'm off the clock," said Neal, refusing to take offence. He wasn't used to having to persuade potential partners, but he was pretty sure Alec was worth it. "The FBI doesn't care about my extracurricular activities."

Alec turned to look at him with amusement. "They would if they knew what you're doing." He took the forged letter and pocketed it carelessly, then stepped closer. "Why me? Don't tell me you ain't got other offers."

 _You remind me who I am,_ thought Neal. Working with the FBI, it was easy to fall into the mindset that most criminals were ruthless, violent bastards—to the point where sometimes Neal actually felt ashamed of his past. Mozzie would call that indoctrination; Peter would call it rehabilitation. Either way, it wasn't a comfortable feeling. Alec Hardison was a potent reminder that it was possible to be a good guy on the shady side of the law. Neal needed that. But it would be far too revealing to say so. He looked up through his eyelashes instead. "I'm not blind either."

Alec's smile widened. "Now that is just shameless flattery—not that I'm complaining." He regarded Neal for a long moment, and then his eyelids drooped and his smile softened. "You want to play it like that—ah, what the hell. Why am I even—?" He put his hand on Neal's arm, leaned in and kissed him.

Neal opened to him immediately, glad of the taste of someone else's mouth, the wicked flick of tongue against his own. He hustled in and hooked an arm around Alec's neck, put his other hand on his waist. Simple desire coupled with months of generalized frustration made him almost hair-trigger easy, and his hips hitched forward automatically, his body hungry for pressure and release.

"Yeah, baby," murmured Alec against his lips, and Neal hauled him even closer and kissed him again, hot and sweet.

Alec was already hard too, his narrow hips shifting in answer to Neal's own. He trailed his hands down Neal's back and found his ass, and Neal grunted, involuntary and undignified, making them both grin.

Alec licked along his jaw to his ear. "How you want to do this? You in a hurry?"

Neal took an unsteady breath and pulled himself together. "Not unless you—No. Come on." He led the way to the bed and pulled the covers down, exposing the sheet like a blank canvas. Before he could turn back, Alec was behind him, reaching around to unbutton his shirt and pull it free of his pants. Alec's erection was a hard weight against his ass, and his teeth closed on the angle of Neal's neck, firm but gentle. Neal was almost panting. "God, I was right about you."

He felt Alec's smile. "Ain't no one comes close." His hands smoothed luxuriously over Neal's belly, and then one slid up his ribcage under the loose sides of the shirt. The other headed south to cover Neal's dick and give it a friendly squeeze. "Hey, uh, do you fuck? No pressure, I mean, just if you want—"

"Yeah. Yeah, definitely." Neal broke free and turned to face him. He let his shirt drop to the ground—just this once—and unfastened his belt, stripping out of his pants and underwear. Alec kicked off his sneakers and peeled his t-shirt over his head, revealing his torso, well-defined but not bulky. But instead of taking off his jeans, he got distracted, crouching down to examine Neal's anklet.

Neal sat on the side of the bed and raised it up to give Alec a better view.

"So that's your tether, huh?" Alec turned it carefully, moving it up and down. "You want it off? 'Cause I could—"

Neal leaned back on his elbows, momentarily distracted from sex. Even distracted from the fact that Alec was almost breathing on his dick and barely seemed aware of it. "Nah, it's fine. It's—I'm good."

Alec looked up, eyebrows quirked. "They got you, and it ain't by the ankle. What, are they leaning on a friend of yours or something? Because we got ways to handle that kind of abuse of power, if you—"

"It's nothing like that," said Neal quickly. He shrugged one shoulder. "I've got stakes on the table, and I'm not ready to fold yet."

Alec wrapped his hand around Neal's foot. "Well, when it's time, you just let me know. I can work some of my sweet geek magic on this thing."

He bent his head and nipped at Neal's leg just above the tracker, and Neal gasped and hauled him onto the bed, rolling on top of him and reveling in the hot slide of skin on skin. Between them, they wrestled Alec out of his jeans, breathless and kissing the whole time, and then they were just bodies, tangled and eager. Neal gave himself over to it, let the sensations blur into an erotic impressionism that built, shifted, and built some more. Alec's hands moved on him like the thick brushstrokes of a van Gogh—fluid, heavy and eloquent—and the contrasting tones of burn and pleasure edged Neal further from the hard reality of his day-to-day. Exactly what he'd needed. He felt saturated with sensation, liquid yet fully alive—the moment only briefly interrupted by the necessities of condom and lube—and then Alec was rocking into him and murmuring against his shoulder.

Neal buried his face in the pillow and pushed back, arching greedily into Alec's thrusts, and Alec swore and tightened his grip on Neal's thigh, then dragged them both to their knees and reached around to jerk Neal off. Neal let his head hang and watched, blinking sweat out of his eyes and bracing his arms to support them. He wasn't going to last, he knew that, so he didn't bother fighting it—just let the pleasure wash through him, culminating in a tight, brilliant clench of tension and release that shook him to the bone, wrung him out and left his heart pounding and his vision hazy.

Alec swore again, and his hips stuttered a little, but he kept on, stroking his cock into Neal, over and over, taking his time. Neal could feel his attention, the way he responded to shifts and reactions, setting up a feedback loop that made Neal's over-sensitive skin sing. It was pure indulgence, like a drug, and god, Neal had missed this. It had been far too long.

Finally, Alec's thrusts sped up, and he pressed his face between Neal's shoulder blades and came with a low groan. Neal tensed in solidarity, then made himself relax as Alec pulled out. They flopped down on the bed, side by side and looked at each other.

"Nice work, Agent Brodie," said Neal, sated and smug. He wiped his stomach with the corner of the sheet. "I think you deserve a commendation—services above and beyond."

"Well, I'm sure you're just the guy to make me one up." Alec smiled. "Come to think of it, that's not a bad idea—my FBI personnel record could use a little padding. I was on a deadline, you know?"

"Maybe so, but the badge would've fooled most people—that's what mattered." Neal leaned over and kissed him, just because he could. "Anyone ever tell you you're a nice guy?"

"Hey, wash your mouth out," said Alec, swatting his arm lazily. "That is classified information, available on a need-to-know basis only."

Neal grinned and collapsed back down.

Alec glanced at the clock on nightstand and sighed. "I gotta get going." He lay there a moment longer, then sat up in a rush and swung his legs to the floor. When he'd thrown the condom in the trash, he started pulling on his clothes. "You know, I don't make it down to New York too often," he said, the words muffled by his t-shirt. "But—"

Neal looked at his back. "I'm not going anywhere—at least, not for a while yet."

"Okay, then." Alec stood up. "All right." There was a brief flicker of awkwardness, then he gave a tiny shrug and relaxed again. "Thanks for the letter, man, and you know. The benefits."

"Any time." Neal got up, still naked and feeling pleasantly achy, and followed him to the door. He met Alec's gaze with a smile. "I mean it. I hope the job for your client works out."

"It always does, baby. We got the magic." Alec leaned in and gave him a loose hug, a quick kiss on the mouth and squeezed his shoulder. "Be seeing you, man." And he left.

Neal went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of chardonnay, and then sat on the bed with one hand on his belly and his legs stretched out in front of him. He regarded the dark band of his tracker thoughtfully, and then put his glass aside, lay down and closed his eyes. Not to sleep, not yet—just to enjoy the low hum of well-used nerves and muscle, and the lingering glow of his orgasm. And to consider the new possibilities that had unfolded that evening. Nothing complicated—he wasn't ready for that yet, and Alec had made his position plain—but Neal smiled to himself all the same. Both professionally and personally, there was no denying it was good to have new options.


End file.
